Because Mother Nature Hates Me
If you understand how much I hate cinnamon which is A WHOLE FREAKING LOT and multiple that by infinity, you get how much I hate snow. It's supposed to snow today. They are calling for potentially 3 inches, which for here is practically a blizzard. Sigh. It's a given that I am always going to be bitter for even so much as one flake but I am particularly bitter when it ruins my life by snowing on the weekend. A three day weekend. A three day weekend when I was so going to IKEA. Curses.
Basically the entire state is freaking out and selling their first born for loaves of bread and milk. Which hello, if we lose power, as we are apt to do, what in the bejezus is a gallon of spoiled milk going to do for you?
I personally am doing the hibernation method and ran to The Get and bought boxes of Benadryl. I figure with the holiday weight I can just sleep through the snow and wake up 5 lbs lighter.
Just in case that option doesn't pan out I stocked up on fully loaded Coke, dark chocolate peanut M&Ms, People Magazine, and an US Weekly for good measure. I figure if I am going to have to be hunkered down for this crap I might as well be high as a kite.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Jan. 20, 2008
Anatomy 101
My precious Livvy has really been into baby dolls and body parts lately. Not uncommon for a little girl of three years old. It's been particularly fun to watch this development because typically symbolic play is rather delayed in children with severe vision loss. Livvy is anything but delayed, in fact this week she proved herself rather advanced. At one point this week she had a measuring spoon stuck in the baby's "crack" of her arm as a "thermoiger" to take her temperature.
On Tuesday I was sitting next to her while she fed the baby.* Suddenly she chucked the baby doll down, hopped up, stood in front of me, and without warning grabbed me with both hands. And by grabbed me, I mean as in the "tune in Tokyo"** sort of manner. Rightfully I gasped and pushed her hands away while Livvy said "I touched Miss Dana's boobies!"
I quickly acknowledged the behavior with a "Livvy, yes those are my boobies. You can only touch and talk about boobies at home with your mom and dad, not at preschool." Livvy leaned her face about 1/2" away from the center of my chest and with sly smirk said "I can see Miss Dana's boobies. She has big ones!" At this point I told Olivia to go chose something to play with and while she walked away she muttered "Miss Dana has big boobies!"
When her mom picked her up I made sure to explain the situation. The last thing I need is a preschooler going home and announcing at the dinner table that she had seen Miss Dana's big boobies. The mom chuckled and told me they had been talking at home about girl boobies v/s boy boobies so I can only guess which conversation is to come next given Livvy has a 16 month old brother.
I thought that the situation was over until I was at Livvy's house on Wednesday afternoon working with said baby brother. Evan had crawled away to be rescued by his mother after I so evilly was forcing him to play with toys and cruise along the couch. Seriously, the way he cries you'd think I was beating him with a stick, but that is another story. I sat back and Livvy came bopping into my lap while I was talking with her mom. Within a flash Livvy's full arm was down my shirt and she announced very matter-of-factly "Yup, Miss Dana has a bra for her big boobies." Then hoped out of my lap and resumed her puzzle nearby. Her mom just shook her head and apologized for this bizarre curiosity Livvy currently has with my chest.
Telling this story though makes me remember another breast related incident from my first year of teaching. I had a sweet 2nd grader, Davis, with moderate intellectual disabilities. He had earned some free time and was drawing on the dry erase board at his desk. Suddenly with a large grin he announces to his peers, "Look I drew a picture of Miss Dana, and I even drew her nipples!"
Flying to his desk to quickly grab what I was guessing as 2nd grade por*n, I noticed that Davis had only drawn my face with two large dots on each side of my smile. My heart still racing as a flush of relief swept over me realizing Davis had drawn "dimples" and not "nipples". I immediately corrected that vocabulary blunder and had a rather enjoyable conversation with his very apologetic mother that afternoon. Again, the last thing I wanted was Davis announcing over dinner how much Miss Dana loved the picture he drew of her nipples. That would have really gone over well with the school board I am sure.
*Please note that I have plenty of clothes for all of the baby dolls but the first thing Livvy does each day is undress them and then play with them naked.
**Gold stars if you can name that movie.
My precious Livvy has really been into baby dolls and body parts lately. Not uncommon for a little girl of three years old. It's been particularly fun to watch this development because typically symbolic play is rather delayed in children with severe vision loss. Livvy is anything but delayed, in fact this week she proved herself rather advanced. At one point this week she had a measuring spoon stuck in the baby's "crack" of her arm as a "thermoiger" to take her temperature.
On Tuesday I was sitting next to her while she fed the baby.* Suddenly she chucked the baby doll down, hopped up, stood in front of me, and without warning grabbed me with both hands. And by grabbed me, I mean as in the "tune in Tokyo"** sort of manner. Rightfully I gasped and pushed her hands away while Livvy said "I touched Miss Dana's boobies!"
I quickly acknowledged the behavior with a "Livvy, yes those are my boobies. You can only touch and talk about boobies at home with your mom and dad, not at preschool." Livvy leaned her face about 1/2" away from the center of my chest and with sly smirk said "I can see Miss Dana's boobies. She has big ones!" At this point I told Olivia to go chose something to play with and while she walked away she muttered "Miss Dana has big boobies!"
When her mom picked her up I made sure to explain the situation. The last thing I need is a preschooler going home and announcing at the dinner table that she had seen Miss Dana's big boobies. The mom chuckled and told me they had been talking at home about girl boobies v/s boy boobies so I can only guess which conversation is to come next given Livvy has a 16 month old brother.
I thought that the situation was over until I was at Livvy's house on Wednesday afternoon working with said baby brother. Evan had crawled away to be rescued by his mother after I so evilly was forcing him to play with toys and cruise along the couch. Seriously, the way he cries you'd think I was beating him with a stick, but that is another story. I sat back and Livvy came bopping into my lap while I was talking with her mom. Within a flash Livvy's full arm was down my shirt and she announced very matter-of-factly "Yup, Miss Dana has a bra for her big boobies." Then hoped out of my lap and resumed her puzzle nearby. Her mom just shook her head and apologized for this bizarre curiosity Livvy currently has with my chest.
Telling this story though makes me remember another breast related incident from my first year of teaching. I had a sweet 2nd grader, Davis, with moderate intellectual disabilities. He had earned some free time and was drawing on the dry erase board at his desk. Suddenly with a large grin he announces to his peers, "Look I drew a picture of Miss Dana, and I even drew her nipples!"
Flying to his desk to quickly grab what I was guessing as 2nd grade por*n, I noticed that Davis had only drawn my face with two large dots on each side of my smile. My heart still racing as a flush of relief swept over me realizing Davis had drawn "dimples" and not "nipples". I immediately corrected that vocabulary blunder and had a rather enjoyable conversation with his very apologetic mother that afternoon. Again, the last thing I wanted was Davis announcing over dinner how much Miss Dana loved the picture he drew of her nipples. That would have really gone over well with the school board I am sure.
*Please note that I have plenty of clothes for all of the baby dolls but the first thing Livvy does each day is undress them and then play with them naked.
**Gold stars if you can name that movie.
Jan 24, 2008
The Plan
Sandy, a colleague, announced to me earlier this month that her New Years resolution was to find me a husband because "you clearly just don't seem happy without one". Ouch. I mean yeah, I would love a husband because heavens knows I am tired of being the only one to do all these damn chores.* But, I didn't think I was walking around all bitter lonely pathetic spinster either.
Sandy and I went to lunch this week and she ambushed the conversation with a rapid fire of questions like where I meet guys, what local groups I have joined, and what things I could be doing in order to meet eligible men. I think she finally got the hint to change the subject after I started hyperventilating and broke my new "no soda" vow by grabbing the waiter by his throat and demanding he bring a coke right this minute. She suddenly wrapped things up and informed me she would just work on "the plan".
I really detest having conversations about "the plan" however, they do make me reflect about aspects of my life that could use some tweaking. Today I was at one of my favorite used bookstores and came across this book by Liz H. Kelly, Smart Man Hunting. My first instinct wasn't to have a tantrum about such a book being in existence which I think is a good sign about my acceptance of "the plan" and my confession now is that I bought it. Don't judge me.** I am 33 in 28 days and don't have money to freeze my eggs.
I figure one of two things can happen by reading it.
1. I will finish it with a few great laughs and some posts as a shout out in mockery to a few of my spinster pals.
2. I could be married and knocked up in four months.
Either way it's win-win. Time to read!
*Don't be leaving any ridiculous comments about getting a husband doesn't mean you will have someone to help out with the chores. If I have waited this long for his chump self to show up in my life he best be doing some chores. I am tired of going to the Jiffy Lube.
**Really, don't judge me. It was only $3.00 totally worth the risk of the investment.
Sandy, a colleague, announced to me earlier this month that her New Years resolution was to find me a husband because "you clearly just don't seem happy without one". Ouch. I mean yeah, I would love a husband because heavens knows I am tired of being the only one to do all these damn chores.* But, I didn't think I was walking around all bitter lonely pathetic spinster either.
Sandy and I went to lunch this week and she ambushed the conversation with a rapid fire of questions like where I meet guys, what local groups I have joined, and what things I could be doing in order to meet eligible men. I think she finally got the hint to change the subject after I started hyperventilating and broke my new "no soda" vow by grabbing the waiter by his throat and demanding he bring a coke right this minute. She suddenly wrapped things up and informed me she would just work on "the plan".
I really detest having conversations about "the plan" however, they do make me reflect about aspects of my life that could use some tweaking. Today I was at one of my favorite used bookstores and came across this book by Liz H. Kelly, Smart Man Hunting. My first instinct wasn't to have a tantrum about such a book being in existence which I think is a good sign about my acceptance of "the plan" and my confession now is that I bought it. Don't judge me.** I am 33 in 28 days and don't have money to freeze my eggs.
I figure one of two things can happen by reading it.
1. I will finish it with a few great laughs and some posts as a shout out in mockery to a few of my spinster pals.
2. I could be married and knocked up in four months.
Either way it's win-win. Time to read!
*Don't be leaving any ridiculous comments about getting a husband doesn't mean you will have someone to help out with the chores. If I have waited this long for his chump self to show up in my life he best be doing some chores. I am tired of going to the Jiffy Lube.
**Really, don't judge me. It was only $3.00 totally worth the risk of the investment.
Jan. 26, 2008
Foxy Baby
I knew when I purchased these outfits they'd be perfect for Gabs. I was thrilled yesterday when I received these proof in the pudding shots! Now if only I can teach Smurfette how to turn off the time stamp on the camera.
She looks like such the chubbers here.
If this one doesn't make you smile you probably hate puppies too.
Already practicing being coy, wise move Gabs, wise move.
Now as soon as she learns to say "please Pawpaw" the child will want for nothing.
As if the cowlick weren't enough, we now have the big ol' mouth evidence that Stumpy is the father.
I knew when I purchased these outfits they'd be perfect for Gabs. I was thrilled yesterday when I received these proof in the pudding shots! Now if only I can teach Smurfette how to turn off the time stamp on the camera.
She looks like such the chubbers here.
If this one doesn't make you smile you probably hate puppies too.
Already practicing being coy, wise move Gabs, wise move.
Now as soon as she learns to say "please Pawpaw" the child will want for nothing.
As if the cowlick weren't enough, we now have the big ol' mouth evidence that Stumpy is the father.
Thus Onto Eternal Perfection
1910-2008
"Gratitude is a sign of maturity. It is an indication of sincere humility. It is a hallmark of civility. And most of all, it is a divine principle. I doubt there is anything in which we more offend the Almighty than in our tendency to forget His mercies and to be ungrateful for that which He has given us. " President Gordon B. Hinckley
1910-2008
"Gratitude is a sign of maturity. It is an indication of sincere humility. It is a hallmark of civility. And most of all, it is a divine principle. I doubt there is anything in which we more offend the Almighty than in our tendency to forget His mercies and to be ungrateful for that which He has given us. " President Gordon B. Hinckley
Jan 30, 2008
Preschool Curriculum: First Anantomy and Now
With an A in anatomy 101 under her belt Livvy has moved onto geometry. The only problem is I barely made it alive out of high school geometry and that was even with macking on my tutor. True story.
Today when she was signing in we had the following conversation.
Livvy: Miss Dana will you please draw me a trapezoid?
Me: Sure, give me your hand, and we can make one together.
Livvy: Can you draw me a hexagon?
Me: Well, I can try, but I am not sure I can do it.
Livvy: What about a pentagon?
Me: Let's give it a try. (drawing pentagon together) Well, it's not a very good one, but it has five sides.
Livvy: (leaning her face and best eye flat against the paper) That's ok, I will see if someone else can do it better.
Me: Sorry I am a failure as a preschool geometry teacher.
If she starts asking physics questions next week she is so getting kicked out of preschool. I refuse to be shown up by a three year old.
With an A in anatomy 101 under her belt Livvy has moved onto geometry. The only problem is I barely made it alive out of high school geometry and that was even with macking on my tutor. True story.
Today when she was signing in we had the following conversation.
Livvy: Miss Dana will you please draw me a trapezoid?
Me: Sure, give me your hand, and we can make one together.
Livvy: Can you draw me a hexagon?
Me: Well, I can try, but I am not sure I can do it.
Livvy: What about a pentagon?
Me: Let's give it a try. (drawing pentagon together) Well, it's not a very good one, but it has five sides.
Livvy: (leaning her face and best eye flat against the paper) That's ok, I will see if someone else can do it better.
Me: Sorry I am a failure as a preschool geometry teacher.
If she starts asking physics questions next week she is so getting kicked out of preschool. I refuse to be shown up by a three year old.
Feb. 8, 2008
I'm Not Even Kidding
I am a self confessed eavesdropper, it comes along with being a neurotic people watcher. Today I over heard a conversation that made me thankful a) not to be a generic twenty something single and b) that sleep deprivation (more details to come) subdued me enough to keep my mouth shut.
I sat eating lunch at a table beside two girls who were very much "We watch The Hills dress like we're LC and Audrina even though we talk with southern accents ." The "blond" girl of the two was planning her wedding and based on comments from the "brunette" I gather she is the maid of honor, and boy what an honor it's going to be. For the sake of coincidence I will refer to them as Lauren and Audrina.
Audrina: Are you totally like getting a wedding planner?
Lauren: Like, I totally thought about it, but you know, I mean, you know I thought they would just crush my creative inspiration, and like I want it to be my wedding, with candlesticks and statues, and not like have to worry like about defending my creativity.
Audrina: Yeah, totally, I totally get it. Totally.
Lauren: Right? Have you ever had a wedding cake that was any good? I mean like totally wedding cakes are so expensive and no one even likes them right? So I want cheesecake, twelve of them with our names spelled like a letter on each and the 10th cake would have that you know weird squiggle thing for the "and". It will be awesome and seriously, I am so not just having any cheesecake, it totally HAS to be Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. It's my wedding and I am so totally not settling.
Audrina: Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. I love it.
(Note, at this point I had to turn in my seat as to not be facing them directly while preventing total hysterical laughter but also so that I could continue to over hear this gem of a conversation.)
Audrina: What about your dress?
Lauren: Well, it depends. I mean I really like two, and it's so hard to decide because I look AMAZING in both and David's Bridal has such a good price that I can't even decide based on the cost.
(At this point, I had to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and really focus, so I missed a smidge of the conversation but when I regained composure I heard this morsel.)
Lauren: Yeah, I mean totally, I cannot handle rude. She seriously was so totally rude. I mean I like apologized to mom I forgot I was going to pick up the invitations last night but it's not like that big of a deal she just prints the invitations out on her computer, I mean it's not like she had to hand write them.
So let's recap here. A girl that was worried about a wedding planner squelching her creative inspiration is
a) having a reception with twelve Cheesecake Factory cheesecakes that spell two names and include an AMPERSAND,
b) having a hard time deciding between two gowns from Davids Bridal, and
c) getting invitations that can be printed on a computer.
I cannot imagine how elegant this inspired wedding of stock mass produced frozen chain cheesecake, with a dress that cost $99 and probably a thousand other girls will use this year, along with invitations printed on her mom's laser jet will turn out. If only I could go.
I am a self confessed eavesdropper, it comes along with being a neurotic people watcher. Today I over heard a conversation that made me thankful a) not to be a generic twenty something single and b) that sleep deprivation (more details to come) subdued me enough to keep my mouth shut.
I sat eating lunch at a table beside two girls who were very much "We watch The Hills dress like we're LC and Audrina even though we talk with southern accents ." The "blond" girl of the two was planning her wedding and based on comments from the "brunette" I gather she is the maid of honor, and boy what an honor it's going to be. For the sake of coincidence I will refer to them as Lauren and Audrina.
Audrina: Are you totally like getting a wedding planner?
Lauren: Like, I totally thought about it, but you know, I mean, you know I thought they would just crush my creative inspiration, and like I want it to be my wedding, with candlesticks and statues, and not like have to worry like about defending my creativity.
Audrina: Yeah, totally, I totally get it. Totally.
Lauren: Right? Have you ever had a wedding cake that was any good? I mean like totally wedding cakes are so expensive and no one even likes them right? So I want cheesecake, twelve of them with our names spelled like a letter on each and the 10th cake would have that you know weird squiggle thing for the "and". It will be awesome and seriously, I am so not just having any cheesecake, it totally HAS to be Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. It's my wedding and I am so totally not settling.
Audrina: Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. I love it.
(Note, at this point I had to turn in my seat as to not be facing them directly while preventing total hysterical laughter but also so that I could continue to over hear this gem of a conversation.)
Audrina: What about your dress?
Lauren: Well, it depends. I mean I really like two, and it's so hard to decide because I look AMAZING in both and David's Bridal has such a good price that I can't even decide based on the cost.
(At this point, I had to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and really focus, so I missed a smidge of the conversation but when I regained composure I heard this morsel.)
Lauren: Yeah, I mean totally, I cannot handle rude. She seriously was so totally rude. I mean I like apologized to mom I forgot I was going to pick up the invitations last night but it's not like that big of a deal she just prints the invitations out on her computer, I mean it's not like she had to hand write them.
So let's recap here. A girl that was worried about a wedding planner squelching her creative inspiration is
a) having a reception with twelve Cheesecake Factory cheesecakes that spell two names and include an AMPERSAND,
b) having a hard time deciding between two gowns from Davids Bridal, and
c) getting invitations that can be printed on a computer.
I cannot imagine how elegant this inspired wedding of stock mass produced frozen chain cheesecake, with a dress that cost $99 and probably a thousand other girls will use this year, along with invitations printed on her mom's laser jet will turn out. If only I could go.
Feb 11, 2008
The Tender Mercies of the Lord
"But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance” 1 Nephi 1:20
I speak of my religion and my faith here in a fairly casual manner. I am not ashamed of my beliefs but it’s not often that I feel a desire to write about personal and deeply spiritual matters. However, my situation over the past week needs to be documented, and I hope I can share it in a manner that will do justice to the situation. It’s one thing to write for comedic relief and another to express deeply personal feelings and experiences.
On January 30th my dearest friend Fran gave birth to beautiful twins Andrew and Caroline. Up until 3 days prior, baby girl was still head up and they couldn’t promise that a C-section wouldn’t occur. Thankfully both babies ended up head down and were delivered vaginally. Fran brought these amazingly beautiful children into the world to join a family of three exuberant little girls ages 5, 4, and almost 2. Yes, that means the twins make this family a family of 5 children all ages 5 and under. You can imagine the lovable chaos the births made for this family.
Last Monday as I left work I began thinking of Fran and decided to call to see if she needed any extra hands putting the older girls to bed. We have a close relationship so I knew helping out would be a treat for the girls as well as a relief for Fran. Selfishly I knew it would also give me a chance to squeeze on some precious newborn chubba legs. Fran and Eric welcomed my call and immediately and eagerly accepted my willingness to come over and lend a hand.
That night after tucking the girls into bed I helped with laundry, squeezed some new born chubba legs, and helped Fran sort through the variety of goods that come in a newborn kit from the hospital, including several samples of formula. I made a special spot in the kitchen for “just in case” even though Fran was actively nursing. After wrapping up Andrew and Caroline into baby burritos I headed for home but not without planning to return again the next night.
Tuesday night I arrived and quickly fell into the night time routine of getting the older girls into bed. Shortly after they were asleep I was working on burping Andrew, which as a side is the stingiest burper of all time. Eric was feeding Caroline, and Fran went to the back to pump. After pumping Fran came out and made an off hand comment about having shooting pains in her left arm. Immediately the thought of heart attack crossed my mind, but I pushed it out because first, Fran is 29 and second, she followed the comment up with that she must have just laid on it weird while pumping.
After attempting a few stretches on her arm, Fran began to find herself short of breath and having weird heart palpitations. She took four ibuprofen and went to rest in the back, but within about 2 minutes she was calling out for her husband and he called 911. I stayed with the twins, and Eric and EMS attended to Fran in the back of the house. As I cuddled the twins the house began to fill up with a variety of emergency medics. There must have been ten medics which is even more significant if you know the size of Fran and Eric’s two bedroom student housing, SMALL is putting it mildly. I found myself holding tight to the babies while saying a silent prayer for Fran, the medical people, and for the older girls to stay sleeping soundly in their room. The noise seemed deafening and I couldn’t even imagine the fear that would have overcome the girls if they had walked out to see their home full of strangers and their mother collapsed in pain crying.
After providing Fran oxygen and running a few tests the medics decided that Fran had two options either go into the emergency room or follow up with her doctor the next day. One medic encouraged Fran to go to the ER because of the unrelenting pain in her left arm while the other was pretty convinced that Fran had suffered a panic attack and hyperventilated, after all she is a young mother of five children. Eric and Fran opted for the ride in the ambulance. At this point it’s about 10 pm and the twins are ready for another feeding. I stayed at the house and let Eric go with his wife. Thankfully, because of my help the night before, I knew where the few samples of formula were kept and where to find the bottles.
Again, I began to utter many prayers. Prayers for the babies too eat their formula and drink easily from a bottle. Prayers for Fran too be healed, protected, and calmed. Prayers for Eric too remain calm in supporting his wife. Prayers for the medical personal too be awake, alert, inspired, and intuitive in her care. Prayers for me too know what to do to help this family in need. I felt reassurance a peace, calm, and clarity of which I haven’t felt before but overcame my body, my mind, and my spirit. That night was a long one feeding the twins every two hours and preparing myself mentally for what may be in store.
Over the next five days I became the main care provider for these children while their father tended to Fran at the hospital. She in fact did have a heart attack, a dissection of her coronary artery an extremely rare attack that occurs during pregnancy or early post pregnancy. It was easy enough to take off work. The eldest girl went to kindergarten each day, immediately ward members volunteered themselves to take the 4 yr old and 2 yr old during the day times. I stayed home with the babes, did laundry, cleaned house, and helped set a schedule of care that the family would need in the weeks following.
Say what you will about organized religion, but if nothing it’s organized. It was unbelievable how quickly people came to the aid of Fran and her family. People were signing up to do laundry, keep the older kids, drive kids to preschool, take them to dance, cook meals, clean house, buy formula, stay with Fran at the hospital, stay with her during the day, night duty with the twins, you name it and it was offered. In fact at one point I contacted the compassionate service leader and asked her to send an email out to ask people to stop calling! So many people were calling I couldn’t get anything done. What a blessing to be a member of an organization full of people who so selflessly give of their time, talents, and resources. The majority of my ward is comprised of young married students who like Fran, like to have babies. These families easily could have felt compassion for Fran’s situation but rightfully been engrossed in their own day to day duties of raising a busy young family. Instead moms of three took upon two extras for the day, moms on tight budgets provided meals, moms without enough spaces in their own cars pawned off their children to neighbors in order to fit additional kids in their cars, dads who had been busy all day in class and work came over and fed infants, and busy working friends smuggled me in supplies of caffeine after I had gone 36 hours without and was working off very limited sleep. If nothing it was awe-inspiring. It was humbling, faith promoting, and filled me with a great gratitude, respect, and compassion for a group of people whom I otherwise wouldn’t have necessarily learned to appreciate and love.
I could not have completed the undertakings of the house and twins without them. I was amazed at the way the Lord buoyed me up. I had intense clarity of thought in organizing the details, mapping out the daily schedules. I had amazing alertness in tending to the twins throughout the night and energy to spare in the morning waking up the girls, dressing them for school, and getting them out for the day. I truly had strength beyond my own. This was not me, it could not have been. I knew that my ability to remain focused, strong, and vigilant was because of the prayers of others, and I was clearly being used as tool in the hand of the Lord.
One thing Fran is known for is her belief in the “tender mercies of the Lord”. She speaks of them often in her life and her faith certainly allows them to be manifest continually. She has spoken of them privately to me, in her Sunday lessons, and in teaching her children. Throughout last week the Spirit spoke to my heart of the tender mercies of the Lord. I knew that Fran’s faith had once again allowed for tender mercies.
The cardiologist said this type of heart attack is very rare, found in 1:100,000 women and in 70% the diagnosis occurs at autopsy. A tender mercy, her survival a miracle. Doctors tribute her survival to the ibuprofen she took at the onset of the pains in her arm. Also, to the fact that she did not need a c-section which potentially could have caused the heart attack earlier killing her and the babies, or causing her to bleed out during the treatment of the heart attack post delivery. I tribute her survival to this family's faith in a plan greater than their own.
It’s impossible to count or even list all of the tender mercies experienced over the past week but some that I keep rethinking over and over again include the prompting to originally go over Monday night prior, the fact that I was there the night of the attack and could attend to the babies and knew where to find the formula, the ability to take care of the kids, and the service from the ward members. It’s overwhelming to think about. I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to be a part of these blessings, to witness these tender mercies, to be in this place at this time and build a relationship with such an amazing family.
My faith in the work and word of the Lord and in His plan are immeasurably strengthened. Now I not only hear Fran’s voice speaking of tender mercies but I feel them for myself and know them in my own life. In rereading Elder Bednar’s words “I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are available to all of us and that the Redeemer of Israel is eager to bestow such gifts upon us.” I find an increased desire to live in way to always be worthy of such gifts, to always be able to discern the tender mercies of the Lord in my life.
"But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance” 1 Nephi 1:20
I speak of my religion and my faith here in a fairly casual manner. I am not ashamed of my beliefs but it’s not often that I feel a desire to write about personal and deeply spiritual matters. However, my situation over the past week needs to be documented, and I hope I can share it in a manner that will do justice to the situation. It’s one thing to write for comedic relief and another to express deeply personal feelings and experiences.
On January 30th my dearest friend Fran gave birth to beautiful twins Andrew and Caroline. Up until 3 days prior, baby girl was still head up and they couldn’t promise that a C-section wouldn’t occur. Thankfully both babies ended up head down and were delivered vaginally. Fran brought these amazingly beautiful children into the world to join a family of three exuberant little girls ages 5, 4, and almost 2. Yes, that means the twins make this family a family of 5 children all ages 5 and under. You can imagine the lovable chaos the births made for this family.
Last Monday as I left work I began thinking of Fran and decided to call to see if she needed any extra hands putting the older girls to bed. We have a close relationship so I knew helping out would be a treat for the girls as well as a relief for Fran. Selfishly I knew it would also give me a chance to squeeze on some precious newborn chubba legs. Fran and Eric welcomed my call and immediately and eagerly accepted my willingness to come over and lend a hand.
That night after tucking the girls into bed I helped with laundry, squeezed some new born chubba legs, and helped Fran sort through the variety of goods that come in a newborn kit from the hospital, including several samples of formula. I made a special spot in the kitchen for “just in case” even though Fran was actively nursing. After wrapping up Andrew and Caroline into baby burritos I headed for home but not without planning to return again the next night.
Tuesday night I arrived and quickly fell into the night time routine of getting the older girls into bed. Shortly after they were asleep I was working on burping Andrew, which as a side is the stingiest burper of all time. Eric was feeding Caroline, and Fran went to the back to pump. After pumping Fran came out and made an off hand comment about having shooting pains in her left arm. Immediately the thought of heart attack crossed my mind, but I pushed it out because first, Fran is 29 and second, she followed the comment up with that she must have just laid on it weird while pumping.
After attempting a few stretches on her arm, Fran began to find herself short of breath and having weird heart palpitations. She took four ibuprofen and went to rest in the back, but within about 2 minutes she was calling out for her husband and he called 911. I stayed with the twins, and Eric and EMS attended to Fran in the back of the house. As I cuddled the twins the house began to fill up with a variety of emergency medics. There must have been ten medics which is even more significant if you know the size of Fran and Eric’s two bedroom student housing, SMALL is putting it mildly. I found myself holding tight to the babies while saying a silent prayer for Fran, the medical people, and for the older girls to stay sleeping soundly in their room. The noise seemed deafening and I couldn’t even imagine the fear that would have overcome the girls if they had walked out to see their home full of strangers and their mother collapsed in pain crying.
After providing Fran oxygen and running a few tests the medics decided that Fran had two options either go into the emergency room or follow up with her doctor the next day. One medic encouraged Fran to go to the ER because of the unrelenting pain in her left arm while the other was pretty convinced that Fran had suffered a panic attack and hyperventilated, after all she is a young mother of five children. Eric and Fran opted for the ride in the ambulance. At this point it’s about 10 pm and the twins are ready for another feeding. I stayed at the house and let Eric go with his wife. Thankfully, because of my help the night before, I knew where the few samples of formula were kept and where to find the bottles.
Again, I began to utter many prayers. Prayers for the babies too eat their formula and drink easily from a bottle. Prayers for Fran too be healed, protected, and calmed. Prayers for Eric too remain calm in supporting his wife. Prayers for the medical personal too be awake, alert, inspired, and intuitive in her care. Prayers for me too know what to do to help this family in need. I felt reassurance a peace, calm, and clarity of which I haven’t felt before but overcame my body, my mind, and my spirit. That night was a long one feeding the twins every two hours and preparing myself mentally for what may be in store.
Over the next five days I became the main care provider for these children while their father tended to Fran at the hospital. She in fact did have a heart attack, a dissection of her coronary artery an extremely rare attack that occurs during pregnancy or early post pregnancy. It was easy enough to take off work. The eldest girl went to kindergarten each day, immediately ward members volunteered themselves to take the 4 yr old and 2 yr old during the day times. I stayed home with the babes, did laundry, cleaned house, and helped set a schedule of care that the family would need in the weeks following.
Say what you will about organized religion, but if nothing it’s organized. It was unbelievable how quickly people came to the aid of Fran and her family. People were signing up to do laundry, keep the older kids, drive kids to preschool, take them to dance, cook meals, clean house, buy formula, stay with Fran at the hospital, stay with her during the day, night duty with the twins, you name it and it was offered. In fact at one point I contacted the compassionate service leader and asked her to send an email out to ask people to stop calling! So many people were calling I couldn’t get anything done. What a blessing to be a member of an organization full of people who so selflessly give of their time, talents, and resources. The majority of my ward is comprised of young married students who like Fran, like to have babies. These families easily could have felt compassion for Fran’s situation but rightfully been engrossed in their own day to day duties of raising a busy young family. Instead moms of three took upon two extras for the day, moms on tight budgets provided meals, moms without enough spaces in their own cars pawned off their children to neighbors in order to fit additional kids in their cars, dads who had been busy all day in class and work came over and fed infants, and busy working friends smuggled me in supplies of caffeine after I had gone 36 hours without and was working off very limited sleep. If nothing it was awe-inspiring. It was humbling, faith promoting, and filled me with a great gratitude, respect, and compassion for a group of people whom I otherwise wouldn’t have necessarily learned to appreciate and love.
I could not have completed the undertakings of the house and twins without them. I was amazed at the way the Lord buoyed me up. I had intense clarity of thought in organizing the details, mapping out the daily schedules. I had amazing alertness in tending to the twins throughout the night and energy to spare in the morning waking up the girls, dressing them for school, and getting them out for the day. I truly had strength beyond my own. This was not me, it could not have been. I knew that my ability to remain focused, strong, and vigilant was because of the prayers of others, and I was clearly being used as tool in the hand of the Lord.
One thing Fran is known for is her belief in the “tender mercies of the Lord”. She speaks of them often in her life and her faith certainly allows them to be manifest continually. She has spoken of them privately to me, in her Sunday lessons, and in teaching her children. Throughout last week the Spirit spoke to my heart of the tender mercies of the Lord. I knew that Fran’s faith had once again allowed for tender mercies.
The cardiologist said this type of heart attack is very rare, found in 1:100,000 women and in 70% the diagnosis occurs at autopsy. A tender mercy, her survival a miracle. Doctors tribute her survival to the ibuprofen she took at the onset of the pains in her arm. Also, to the fact that she did not need a c-section which potentially could have caused the heart attack earlier killing her and the babies, or causing her to bleed out during the treatment of the heart attack post delivery. I tribute her survival to this family's faith in a plan greater than their own.
It’s impossible to count or even list all of the tender mercies experienced over the past week but some that I keep rethinking over and over again include the prompting to originally go over Monday night prior, the fact that I was there the night of the attack and could attend to the babies and knew where to find the formula, the ability to take care of the kids, and the service from the ward members. It’s overwhelming to think about. I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to be a part of these blessings, to witness these tender mercies, to be in this place at this time and build a relationship with such an amazing family.
My faith in the work and word of the Lord and in His plan are immeasurably strengthened. Now I not only hear Fran’s voice speaking of tender mercies but I feel them for myself and know them in my own life. In rereading Elder Bednar’s words “I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are available to all of us and that the Redeemer of Israel is eager to bestow such gifts upon us.” I find an increased desire to live in way to always be worthy of such gifts, to always be able to discern the tender mercies of the Lord in my life.
Feb. 18, 2008
Happy Birthweek to Me
It's my birthday this week. If you haven't caught on the past three years I am sorta a freak about my birthday. I blame it on my mom who basically made up for her abusive and neglectful childhood by making our birthday events over the top. I love her for that. We weren't spoiled with lavish gifts and outrageous parties but there certainly wasn't any question that growing up we felt very special on our birthday with festivities usually lasting for several days. So I would appreciate it if you got on board with the same program.
First, thanks to all who voted in my special birthday poll several weeks ago. Five voters had it correct when they selected "The writers strike to be over so that new episodes of The Office and Pushing Daisies can return." as what I most wanted for my birthday. Clearly these voters are people I need to have on my team because seriously, the writers strike is now over and my birthday wish is coming true.
Second, I would like to thank Hollywood for feeding my dance movie fetish by releasing a dance movie once again in time for my birthday. I cannot wait for Thursday night when I am going to go see Step Up 2 The Streets. Lamar, my favorite movie reviewer gave the acting 2 buds, no big surprises there, but an entire 6-pack for the dancing! Which means my birthday movie night is going to glorious. Lamar is never wrong, and while I can't generally relate to the amount of alcohol he gives a film, I can relate to his enthusiasm and sarcasm. That man never leads me down the wrong movie path. I feel even more prepared now that I understand the theme song better thanks to Jordan Baker's lovely job of the cracker break down to "Low".
While having the writers strike end and Hollywood releasing a feature film in my honor have been wonderful birthday treats, I realize some of you may need options for supporting the celebration. In my sheer boredom that was staff meeting today, I took the opportunity to put together the following helpful list.
1) Fresh flowers. I know there are people that consider them a waste. I am not one and always welcome them in any variety.
2) Dinner at Twisted Noodles. I haven't stopped obsessing over their Tom Kah since eating it two weeks ago with Angie, the most talented music therapist ever born and no that isn't an exaggeration.
3) Comments on any post of your choice. As a general rule I welcome lurkers and love comments from my friends. For my birthday week celebration I challenge you all to leave a comment. I would love to receive 33 comments in celebration of turning 33! I do however reserve the right to delete your comment if you lash out with something like "Dance movies suck, cinnamon rules, and trolls don't deserve flowers."
4) A date with any and or all of the following peoplea) friendsb) Vin Dieselc) any male not creepy, bathed, and has the majority of his own teethd) Max (Come on, a girl can dream right? I mean I did get a signed autograph picture from him three years ago. It's only natural to move things to the next level.)
5) homemade German Chocolate Cake
6) A list of people who are younger than me but look older than me.
7) A list of reasons that I do not look 33 or old in general.
8) A list of reasons why 33 and single is great and not a reason to take out a loan so that I can have an appointment here.I am pretty sure that gives most all of you an option. If you still don't see something that fits your need to contribute to this week's birthday festivities send me an email or leave a comment and I am sure together we can come up with a suitable alternative.
It's my birthday this week. If you haven't caught on the past three years I am sorta a freak about my birthday. I blame it on my mom who basically made up for her abusive and neglectful childhood by making our birthday events over the top. I love her for that. We weren't spoiled with lavish gifts and outrageous parties but there certainly wasn't any question that growing up we felt very special on our birthday with festivities usually lasting for several days. So I would appreciate it if you got on board with the same program.
First, thanks to all who voted in my special birthday poll several weeks ago. Five voters had it correct when they selected "The writers strike to be over so that new episodes of The Office and Pushing Daisies can return." as what I most wanted for my birthday. Clearly these voters are people I need to have on my team because seriously, the writers strike is now over and my birthday wish is coming true.
Second, I would like to thank Hollywood for feeding my dance movie fetish by releasing a dance movie once again in time for my birthday. I cannot wait for Thursday night when I am going to go see Step Up 2 The Streets. Lamar, my favorite movie reviewer gave the acting 2 buds, no big surprises there, but an entire 6-pack for the dancing! Which means my birthday movie night is going to glorious. Lamar is never wrong, and while I can't generally relate to the amount of alcohol he gives a film, I can relate to his enthusiasm and sarcasm. That man never leads me down the wrong movie path. I feel even more prepared now that I understand the theme song better thanks to Jordan Baker's lovely job of the cracker break down to "Low".
While having the writers strike end and Hollywood releasing a feature film in my honor have been wonderful birthday treats, I realize some of you may need options for supporting the celebration. In my sheer boredom that was staff meeting today, I took the opportunity to put together the following helpful list.
1) Fresh flowers. I know there are people that consider them a waste. I am not one and always welcome them in any variety.
2) Dinner at Twisted Noodles. I haven't stopped obsessing over their Tom Kah since eating it two weeks ago with Angie, the most talented music therapist ever born and no that isn't an exaggeration.
3) Comments on any post of your choice. As a general rule I welcome lurkers and love comments from my friends. For my birthday week celebration I challenge you all to leave a comment. I would love to receive 33 comments in celebration of turning 33! I do however reserve the right to delete your comment if you lash out with something like "Dance movies suck, cinnamon rules, and trolls don't deserve flowers."
4) A date with any and or all of the following peoplea) friendsb) Vin Dieselc) any male not creepy, bathed, and has the majority of his own teethd) Max (Come on, a girl can dream right? I mean I did get a signed autograph picture from him three years ago. It's only natural to move things to the next level.)
5) homemade German Chocolate Cake
6) A list of people who are younger than me but look older than me.
7) A list of reasons that I do not look 33 or old in general.
8) A list of reasons why 33 and single is great and not a reason to take out a loan so that I can have an appointment here.I am pretty sure that gives most all of you an option. If you still don't see something that fits your need to contribute to this week's birthday festivities send me an email or leave a comment and I am sure together we can come up with a suitable alternative.
March 1, 2008
I'm Not Dead. . . Yet
My apologies for demanding birthday well wishes and then leaving everyone hanging on the glory that was my 33rd birthday. For once I have good excuses. I have been back on twin duty because Fran returned to the hospital and the three oldest kids had the flu. Also, my National Board portfolio is do 30 days from now. Commence anxiety attack. When I was watching the flu ridden older gals we talked about Sweety K's 2nd birthday that was the previous weekend. I was teasing the girls about them missing my birthday when the 5 year old asked how old I turned. When I told her the current age of impending wasted eggs she exclaimed with a face of extreme surprise "Thirty-three, that isn't even NEAR 100!" So in celebration of the fact that I am NOT even near 100 I thought I would share 33 things of which I cannot live without. Because as Whitters reminded me I still have a long time to live. This isn’t a tender smootchzie list. I figure at this point in life it’s a given that I cannot live without family, friends, and the like. These items are about the little things make life bearable, enjoyable, and generally less insane. I realize many of the items will ban me from being part of the NWO, but it’s ok because groups like that tend to use natural selection to kill off the elderly.
1. Vanilla Coke. In the east I prefer Sonic and out west it's nothing but Hires. While some people feel their isn’t a need for soda, I say for the love, I am 33 year old sober virgin. Let a girl have her vice.
2. Ruby Ann. I cannot even remember my baking life pre Kitchen Aid. I probably love her as much as I do my own mother, which is either not saying much about the relationship I have with my mom or says loads about my kitchen aid. I will let you decide. If you are even semi interested in baking I highly suggest you invest in the purchase. You won’t regret it.
3. Cetaphill.I have tried hundreds of face cleansing products ridiculously expensive to ridiculously cheap. I always come back to this one.
4.DVR. Talk about indulgence. Watching “live” TV seems like such a bother now that I officially consider myself a TV watching snot.
5. Down Comforter. Regardless of the season I find that my sleep cycle has been forever blessed since the purchase of my first down comforter 4 years ago.
6. OPI Nail Polish. The only polish that doesn’t chip off my nails in 24 hours. Favorite colors are "Soho Nice to Meet You" and "Please Don’t Steal My Limo".
7. Wireless Internet
8. Sushi
9.Nano. NC is against decent radio, Bob and Sheri and NPR of course excluded. I enjoy music but certainly not a guru. I would have never purchased an Ipod for myself but now that I have one I recommend them to everyone.
10. Debit card.I hate carrying cash and for petes sake do I even own checks?
11. Love Junkie lip gloss by Urban Decay. However, as I go to link this I am faced with the fact that eventually I will have to learn to live without it once the current tube is gone. Sadly they aren't making this color any longer.
12. Hair Color.Thanks to cute Josh, I never have to think about my hair color. He always has some great idea for highlights or color to keep me feeling fresh, young, and the grey covered. Cute Josh if you ever discover this blog, I am sorry for always drooling on your floor but seriously your tats nearly send me over the edge and I wouldn’t be so awkward if you kept them covered. Also, thanks for doing a great job on my hair and never making me feel like a freak.
13. Dark chocolate. High quality dark chocolate.
14. People Magazine. I openly admit to being a celebrity gossip whore.
15. Sunday Naps.I love a 1-2 hour nap on Sunday afternoon, especially in the spring or summer if I can take them outside with the warm sun on my face. See also #18.
16. Dollar Theater. How can you not love the chance to see or re watch some highly indulgent cheesy girly movie.
17. Good knives. I finally own a chef’s knife that isn’t safe for a preschooler to use with playdough. What a difference, of course it has meant an increase in my budget for first aid items like band aids but worth it.
18. Good books.I have always been a reader and feel as if I have a diverse collection upon my many shelves. I love discovering new favorites and rediscovering old ones.
19. The Beach. I was raised on vacations to the beautiful outer banks of NC. Time on the sand, the smell of the salt air, the sun on my back…only 4 months until summer!
20. Recipes. In true southern fashion, it’s hard to find something that makes me happier than cooking for others. I am constantly collecting new recipes from friends, online, magazines, or recreating a dish from a restaurant.
21. Verizon to Verizon minutes. Genius, priceless. Now if only I could convince every cell phone user I speak to on a regular basis of the same thing.
22. Doc Martins. Feet like an elephant. I have gigantic feet. Regardless of the trend factor that Docs may or may not have at any given moment they are almost always my shoe of choice. I can spend days in these shoes and not be uncomfortable. My red Mary Janes are my favorite pair. 23. Yellow Concealer. Almost as big as my feet are the black dark circles under my eyes. Thank heavens for face paint.
24. Eye brow wax. Why risk unevenness? For seven bucks I am set for two months.
25. Good tweezers. Helps the $7 investment last that two months.
26. Google Maps. I am convinced that the general population cannot give directions. Now, I never have to ask them again.
27. Weather Channel. It’s near the OCD phase. I check the weather online at least 5 times a day. I check my local weather, my friends' weather, random places I day dream of visiting, and sometimes just plug in a made up zip code and see what pops up. If only this list included visiting a good psychiatrist.
28. Orbitz Gum. Preferably in citrus mint.
29. The Clicker. Who knows what these things are really called but my entire family refers to them as “the clicker” otherwise known as the automatic car lock/unlock device.
30. Fresh Flowers. While it’s always a delight receiving them from others that occasion is pretty rare, so I love to indulge myself with purchasing flowers for my home.
31. Farmers Market. I have become spoiled buying fresh herbs, vegetables, and fruits grown locally. I hope to always live in a city that supports such a fantastic farmers market. Also, that has a restaurant as yummy as the one here!
32. Digital Camera. Taking film to be developed seems like something done in another lifetime. I love the ease and convince of sharing photos thanks to a digital camera. I use it everywhere teaching, family events, vacationing, it’s fabulous.
33. BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS! My list wouldn't be complete if I didn't admit that I couldn't live without the joy that comes from celebrating life with family and friends. I am so appreciative of the kindness that came in the form of hysterical and loving comments (Lisa, he doesn't have to be good enough. I am 33 everything is either negotiable, repentable, or ignorable.) I have been incredibly fortunate to spend an overwhelming amount of time in life celebrating with friends near and far. Now, if finishing up my National Board portfolio doesn't kill me, I look forward to many more celebrations of life to come!
My apologies for demanding birthday well wishes and then leaving everyone hanging on the glory that was my 33rd birthday. For once I have good excuses. I have been back on twin duty because Fran returned to the hospital and the three oldest kids had the flu. Also, my National Board portfolio is do 30 days from now. Commence anxiety attack. When I was watching the flu ridden older gals we talked about Sweety K's 2nd birthday that was the previous weekend. I was teasing the girls about them missing my birthday when the 5 year old asked how old I turned. When I told her the current age of impending wasted eggs she exclaimed with a face of extreme surprise "Thirty-three, that isn't even NEAR 100!" So in celebration of the fact that I am NOT even near 100 I thought I would share 33 things of which I cannot live without. Because as Whitters reminded me I still have a long time to live. This isn’t a tender smootchzie list. I figure at this point in life it’s a given that I cannot live without family, friends, and the like. These items are about the little things make life bearable, enjoyable, and generally less insane. I realize many of the items will ban me from being part of the NWO, but it’s ok because groups like that tend to use natural selection to kill off the elderly.
1. Vanilla Coke. In the east I prefer Sonic and out west it's nothing but Hires. While some people feel their isn’t a need for soda, I say for the love, I am 33 year old sober virgin. Let a girl have her vice.
2. Ruby Ann. I cannot even remember my baking life pre Kitchen Aid. I probably love her as much as I do my own mother, which is either not saying much about the relationship I have with my mom or says loads about my kitchen aid. I will let you decide. If you are even semi interested in baking I highly suggest you invest in the purchase. You won’t regret it.
3. Cetaphill.I have tried hundreds of face cleansing products ridiculously expensive to ridiculously cheap. I always come back to this one.
4.DVR. Talk about indulgence. Watching “live” TV seems like such a bother now that I officially consider myself a TV watching snot.
5. Down Comforter. Regardless of the season I find that my sleep cycle has been forever blessed since the purchase of my first down comforter 4 years ago.
6. OPI Nail Polish. The only polish that doesn’t chip off my nails in 24 hours. Favorite colors are "Soho Nice to Meet You" and "Please Don’t Steal My Limo".
7. Wireless Internet
8. Sushi
9.Nano. NC is against decent radio, Bob and Sheri and NPR of course excluded. I enjoy music but certainly not a guru. I would have never purchased an Ipod for myself but now that I have one I recommend them to everyone.
10. Debit card.I hate carrying cash and for petes sake do I even own checks?
11. Love Junkie lip gloss by Urban Decay. However, as I go to link this I am faced with the fact that eventually I will have to learn to live without it once the current tube is gone. Sadly they aren't making this color any longer.
12. Hair Color.Thanks to cute Josh, I never have to think about my hair color. He always has some great idea for highlights or color to keep me feeling fresh, young, and the grey covered. Cute Josh if you ever discover this blog, I am sorry for always drooling on your floor but seriously your tats nearly send me over the edge and I wouldn’t be so awkward if you kept them covered. Also, thanks for doing a great job on my hair and never making me feel like a freak.
13. Dark chocolate. High quality dark chocolate.
14. People Magazine. I openly admit to being a celebrity gossip whore.
15. Sunday Naps.I love a 1-2 hour nap on Sunday afternoon, especially in the spring or summer if I can take them outside with the warm sun on my face. See also #18.
16. Dollar Theater. How can you not love the chance to see or re watch some highly indulgent cheesy girly movie.
17. Good knives. I finally own a chef’s knife that isn’t safe for a preschooler to use with playdough. What a difference, of course it has meant an increase in my budget for first aid items like band aids but worth it.
18. Good books.I have always been a reader and feel as if I have a diverse collection upon my many shelves. I love discovering new favorites and rediscovering old ones.
19. The Beach. I was raised on vacations to the beautiful outer banks of NC. Time on the sand, the smell of the salt air, the sun on my back…only 4 months until summer!
20. Recipes. In true southern fashion, it’s hard to find something that makes me happier than cooking for others. I am constantly collecting new recipes from friends, online, magazines, or recreating a dish from a restaurant.
21. Verizon to Verizon minutes. Genius, priceless. Now if only I could convince every cell phone user I speak to on a regular basis of the same thing.
22. Doc Martins. Feet like an elephant. I have gigantic feet. Regardless of the trend factor that Docs may or may not have at any given moment they are almost always my shoe of choice. I can spend days in these shoes and not be uncomfortable. My red Mary Janes are my favorite pair. 23. Yellow Concealer. Almost as big as my feet are the black dark circles under my eyes. Thank heavens for face paint.
24. Eye brow wax. Why risk unevenness? For seven bucks I am set for two months.
25. Good tweezers. Helps the $7 investment last that two months.
26. Google Maps. I am convinced that the general population cannot give directions. Now, I never have to ask them again.
27. Weather Channel. It’s near the OCD phase. I check the weather online at least 5 times a day. I check my local weather, my friends' weather, random places I day dream of visiting, and sometimes just plug in a made up zip code and see what pops up. If only this list included visiting a good psychiatrist.
28. Orbitz Gum. Preferably in citrus mint.
29. The Clicker. Who knows what these things are really called but my entire family refers to them as “the clicker” otherwise known as the automatic car lock/unlock device.
30. Fresh Flowers. While it’s always a delight receiving them from others that occasion is pretty rare, so I love to indulge myself with purchasing flowers for my home.
31. Farmers Market. I have become spoiled buying fresh herbs, vegetables, and fruits grown locally. I hope to always live in a city that supports such a fantastic farmers market. Also, that has a restaurant as yummy as the one here!
32. Digital Camera. Taking film to be developed seems like something done in another lifetime. I love the ease and convince of sharing photos thanks to a digital camera. I use it everywhere teaching, family events, vacationing, it’s fabulous.
33. BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS! My list wouldn't be complete if I didn't admit that I couldn't live without the joy that comes from celebrating life with family and friends. I am so appreciative of the kindness that came in the form of hysterical and loving comments (Lisa, he doesn't have to be good enough. I am 33 everything is either negotiable, repentable, or ignorable.) I have been incredibly fortunate to spend an overwhelming amount of time in life celebrating with friends near and far. Now, if finishing up my National Board portfolio doesn't kill me, I look forward to many more celebrations of life to come!
March 3, 2008
Dem Birthday cakes, they stole the show
Several of you have asked for my review of Step Up 2: The Streets. You know I'm a dance movie slut, I will watch anything and like it. I don't want to hear any guff if you watch it and hate. Also, if you hate it you are dead to me. Similar to its predecessors, this movie has all the key elements for the making of a hot dance flix with a twist. Instead of wide-eyed innocent female, we have a hunky blond with a craving for the extreme even though he was raised on ballet. Meet Chase.
Yeah, so not usually one for blond or wholesome, but hello. I'll taking a heaping helping of his hospitality anytime. •Our token troubled youth lead is female, the grown up little sister from Step Up. I am not convinced that the actress really danced, and I am too lazy right now to look it up. She was cute, shakes her booty, but can't deliver a line to save her life. But who watches dance movies for the acting? •Girl Meets Boy: Scene where wholesome, wide-eyed, innocent male secretly watches bad-ass female with a troubled past dancing therefore foreshadowing their perfect love and dance partner ability. The twist? She secretly watches him that night in the club too. Love at first dance glance. •Judgmental adult (this time it happens to be Chase's older brother who, wait for it, is the director of the dance academy...dun dun dun!) is against wholesome, wide-eyed innocent male and bad-ass female with troubled past dancing together;• sexual tension; • competition or dancing crisis; and most importantly a romantic resolution.
There are some lovely added bonus features to this movie including a few six packs of dark chocolate. Trust me, I have looked for photos of those because seriously been dreaming about them nightly. Yum-o. Also, the lovable best friend geek Moose was darling. The acting in this movie was the worst of its kind (no surprise there) however, the dancing was fantastico. I will be hitting it up again at the dollar theater. You know I watch these crazy shows on Lifetime where moms make daughters live out their dreams by being in psycho kid beauty pageants or turn being head cheerleader into something more important than breathing. I suddenly have visions of teaching my toddlers how to pop and remixing their baby Einsteins so they can have mad dance skillz. The dancing in Step Up 2: The Streets is very unique and intense. Watch my favorite America's Best Dance Crew clip and if you watch it over and over like I do you should've bought your movie ticket yesterday.
Several of you have asked for my review of Step Up 2: The Streets. You know I'm a dance movie slut, I will watch anything and like it. I don't want to hear any guff if you watch it and hate. Also, if you hate it you are dead to me. Similar to its predecessors, this movie has all the key elements for the making of a hot dance flix with a twist. Instead of wide-eyed innocent female, we have a hunky blond with a craving for the extreme even though he was raised on ballet. Meet Chase.
Yeah, so not usually one for blond or wholesome, but hello. I'll taking a heaping helping of his hospitality anytime. •Our token troubled youth lead is female, the grown up little sister from Step Up. I am not convinced that the actress really danced, and I am too lazy right now to look it up. She was cute, shakes her booty, but can't deliver a line to save her life. But who watches dance movies for the acting? •Girl Meets Boy: Scene where wholesome, wide-eyed, innocent male secretly watches bad-ass female with a troubled past dancing therefore foreshadowing their perfect love and dance partner ability. The twist? She secretly watches him that night in the club too. Love at first dance glance. •Judgmental adult (this time it happens to be Chase's older brother who, wait for it, is the director of the dance academy...dun dun dun!) is against wholesome, wide-eyed innocent male and bad-ass female with troubled past dancing together;• sexual tension; • competition or dancing crisis; and most importantly a romantic resolution.
There are some lovely added bonus features to this movie including a few six packs of dark chocolate. Trust me, I have looked for photos of those because seriously been dreaming about them nightly. Yum-o. Also, the lovable best friend geek Moose was darling. The acting in this movie was the worst of its kind (no surprise there) however, the dancing was fantastico. I will be hitting it up again at the dollar theater. You know I watch these crazy shows on Lifetime where moms make daughters live out their dreams by being in psycho kid beauty pageants or turn being head cheerleader into something more important than breathing. I suddenly have visions of teaching my toddlers how to pop and remixing their baby Einsteins so they can have mad dance skillz. The dancing in Step Up 2: The Streets is very unique and intense. Watch my favorite America's Best Dance Crew clip and if you watch it over and over like I do you should've bought your movie ticket yesterday.
March 4, 2008
Like Snickers, Guaranteed to Satisfy
Who knew when I climbed into the back of a green Dodge Dart** that cold night in November of 1993 that it would be my first of many climbs and the start of a friendship that would forever shape my life. Annie, I know it's not our nature to be all tender and emotional, but I want you to know I love you!Thank you for being my friend even though I had pickle breath. Thank for teaching me the love of Llama Fest. Thank you for starting the Wrestle Mania trends. Thank you for teaching me to love gnocchi. Thank you for road trips to Idaho, California, Vegas Xs a ton. Thank you for visiting me in North Carolina. Thank you for being my psychiatrist. Thank you for being my medical consultant. Thank you for always remembering my birthdays. Thank you for teaching me to love good music. Thank you not pushing me down anymore.
Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for mocking me and making me laugh more. Thank you for creating sausage ball Sabbath. Thank you teaching me to not give up (re: finally marrying Brian). Thank you for sharing your life and love. Thank you for sharing your family. Thank you for sharing your friends. Thank you for more memories than I can really count.
Having never lived in one spot for more than 5 years before college I never knew what it was like to have a life long friend. I know you will always be my friend, even though you sometimes push me down. See I have proof. Also, the one thing I don't thank you for is Ram Charger Loving. I cannot believe you got to kiss that boy and I didn't! So much for Symphony bars and Mountain Dew!
Happy Birthday Annie!
*Two days in a row with song lyrics for a title. Am I cool or what?** Not a recommended activity for pregnant women.
Who knew when I climbed into the back of a green Dodge Dart** that cold night in November of 1993 that it would be my first of many climbs and the start of a friendship that would forever shape my life. Annie, I know it's not our nature to be all tender and emotional, but I want you to know I love you!Thank you for being my friend even though I had pickle breath. Thank for teaching me the love of Llama Fest. Thank you for starting the Wrestle Mania trends. Thank you for teaching me to love gnocchi. Thank you for road trips to Idaho, California, Vegas Xs a ton. Thank you for visiting me in North Carolina. Thank you for being my psychiatrist. Thank you for being my medical consultant. Thank you for always remembering my birthdays. Thank you for teaching me to love good music. Thank you not pushing me down anymore.
Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for mocking me and making me laugh more. Thank you for creating sausage ball Sabbath. Thank you teaching me to not give up (re: finally marrying Brian). Thank you for sharing your life and love. Thank you for sharing your family. Thank you for sharing your friends. Thank you for more memories than I can really count.
Having never lived in one spot for more than 5 years before college I never knew what it was like to have a life long friend. I know you will always be my friend, even though you sometimes push me down. See I have proof. Also, the one thing I don't thank you for is Ram Charger Loving. I cannot believe you got to kiss that boy and I didn't! So much for Symphony bars and Mountain Dew!
Happy Birthday Annie!
*Two days in a row with song lyrics for a title. Am I cool or what?** Not a recommended activity for pregnant women.
March 17, 2008
Until April 1st
from Thinking It Through by DanaLee
I have 14 days until my National Board Portfolio is due. Instead of grossing you out with the pictures of the thousand stress induced cold sores in my mouth I thought I would share my morning with you. Despite it being St. Patrick's Day, we had our annual spring egg hunt at school. Just in case you think that is cruel rest assured we have cool things like musical, beeping, and super bright high contrast eggs.The largest component of the National Board Portfolio is the "reflection" piece. This is where I am supposed to wax pensive and discuss ways that I can be a better teacher. Mostly I just want to write "Suck it you chumps, you couldn't do my job for a day so just give me my darn 12%!" But somehow I find enough self restraint left to say ridiculous things like "It is important for me to realize (fill in any number of buzz word phrases)..." and try to mean it. Ask my friend Lis, she sees right through me. In the spirit of reflection here are the top 10 things learned from today's spring egg hunt with the teacher being the student and the students being INSANE MONKEYS.
1) Never have special activities on Mondays.
2) If you think you have enough adults to help you don't. Always ask for more.
3) Don't teach the kids how to open the eggs until AFTER the egg hunt.
4) Don't lose the special musical egg and then find it after the egg hunt.
5) Don't ever wear these jeans again.
*6) Don't let people taking pictures walk behind you.
*7) Don't take the kids on a field trip to Ireland, they will starve. Today's lunch was Irish Stew, turnip greens, and Irish soda bread. Not a single bite was taken.
8) Group pictures are overrated.
9) My students have amazing parents who are always willing to lend a hand or let their heads get rubbed by other kids with chocolate fingers.
10) I love people who observe madness and without being asked jump in and assist. I had two lifesavers today, Jill and Michael. I am saying a special prayer tonight and asking for them to be sent straight to heaven.
I realize this post isn't quality but I have to finish my real reflections now. Then at least with an extra 12% insanely chaotic days like today might be worth it. *If you think you are getting illustrations of these mishaps THINK AGAIN.
from Thinking It Through by DanaLee
I have 14 days until my National Board Portfolio is due. Instead of grossing you out with the pictures of the thousand stress induced cold sores in my mouth I thought I would share my morning with you. Despite it being St. Patrick's Day, we had our annual spring egg hunt at school. Just in case you think that is cruel rest assured we have cool things like musical, beeping, and super bright high contrast eggs.The largest component of the National Board Portfolio is the "reflection" piece. This is where I am supposed to wax pensive and discuss ways that I can be a better teacher. Mostly I just want to write "Suck it you chumps, you couldn't do my job for a day so just give me my darn 12%!" But somehow I find enough self restraint left to say ridiculous things like "It is important for me to realize (fill in any number of buzz word phrases)..." and try to mean it. Ask my friend Lis, she sees right through me. In the spirit of reflection here are the top 10 things learned from today's spring egg hunt with the teacher being the student and the students being INSANE MONKEYS.
1) Never have special activities on Mondays.
2) If you think you have enough adults to help you don't. Always ask for more.
3) Don't teach the kids how to open the eggs until AFTER the egg hunt.
4) Don't lose the special musical egg and then find it after the egg hunt.
5) Don't ever wear these jeans again.
*6) Don't let people taking pictures walk behind you.
*7) Don't take the kids on a field trip to Ireland, they will starve. Today's lunch was Irish Stew, turnip greens, and Irish soda bread. Not a single bite was taken.
8) Group pictures are overrated.
9) My students have amazing parents who are always willing to lend a hand or let their heads get rubbed by other kids with chocolate fingers.
10) I love people who observe madness and without being asked jump in and assist. I had two lifesavers today, Jill and Michael. I am saying a special prayer tonight and asking for them to be sent straight to heaven.
I realize this post isn't quality but I have to finish my real reflections now. Then at least with an extra 12% insanely chaotic days like today might be worth it. *If you think you are getting illustrations of these mishaps THINK AGAIN.
May 27, 2008
The Curse is Lifted
There will be no judgment here. If you don’t like Idol, just move on. I love it and am not ashamed. Mostly. It’s true I cannot get those two hours of my life I spent voting last week back. But I multi task, so while I am incessantly redialing 1-866-IDOLS-O1 I am also doing important things like cutting pictures out of Tiger Beat and making friendship bracelets.
I have not always been an Idol watcher; I was an Idol late bloomer some might say. Better late than never I say! The past four years I have faced my share of Idol ups and downs for sure; cheering along my favorite singers; baulking at ridiculous comments from the judges; and of course fast forwarding anything coming out of Ryan’s mouth. I have always been an avid voter generally waiting until the top 12 before I cast my selective and sometimes lustful vote.
Sadly, my votes, while keeping my favorite Idol on the show for an additional week or two, have never been fruitful enough to produce an American Idol. Which hello, luscious Daughtry yes I will carry your love child, isn’t always a bad thing.
My first Idol year, I loved the spirited fraggle, John Peter Lewis (JPL). My friends and I had special Velcro Idol heads for each contestant that we moved into brackets each week after the show, selecting our bottom three picks for each week and of course our ultimate winner. Those were good times, even after my dear JPL was voted off. So long little man.
The following year Lady Holiday and I watched faithfully as the camera seducer Constantine took the stage. If there is anything I love more than a spirited fraggle, it’s pouty faced grungy rocker men.
Even better, a pouty faced grungy rocker who CAN sing AND has a butt chin! I am gonna tell ya right now, I love me a butt chin. Lady Holiday was so bitter after Constantine’s unjust departure that she subsequently swore off Idol. She's even stuck to it, determined and focused that gal. However, because I totally Benedict Arnolded our pact, I have had the pleasure to see his brooding face in the audience the past few years. I still love you Constantine. Call me.
One might think I couldn’t have more Idol joy than I found in Constantine. But you would be wrong, because the thing I love more than pouty faced grungy rocker is a bald man with tattoos, who can sing! I mean surely, I don’t need to remind you about the ever constant love for all things Vin. No doubt my Daughtry CD gets some serious playtime on the Ipod and we won’t even discuss the condition of the CD insert with it’s multiple and delicious shots of Daughtry, I mean this is a family friendly blog after all. True it was a serious travesty that Chris Daughtry was not the winner that season, but considering he matched four #1 single releases in a row, a record not beat since Mariah Carey in the 90s I am really not going to complain. I just may go play my CD and dance around with the insert again to celebrate the victory. I should also mention here that Chris is a good ol’ North Carolina Boy. Sigh.
Last year Idol visited fraggle rock again and I was totally endeared to Blake Lewis. I knew chances were slim that he would win, but I adored his personality, and the variety he brought to the performances. I still find myself putting his version of When The Stars Go Blue on repeat frequently. So precious I just wanted to put him in my pocket so I could pull him out to sing for me on demand. Dance monkey dance.
This year the stars were aligned, once again fans were screaming it was the BEST SEASON EVER. Indeed I enjoyed this season immensely, even if I was completely annoyed at the hour long results show and found myself fast forwarding more crap and singers and sometimes crappy singers than ever. But alas, I persisted through because of this delight.
It often takes me several weeks to settle on a favorite and decide which singer is going to be blessed to have my stalking and powerful votes. Not this year, I was a David Cook fan from the start. Some people were nay sayers, making horrific statements like “He sounds like Nickleback” which he so does not. Or “He has a huge head!” which he so does not-ish. But man can he sing. And play the guitar. And smile. And grow scruff. Ummm scruff.
Regardless, I am so pleased that the curse has finally been lifted and my Idol voice has been heard. Congrats to David Cook. I didn't know I could love him any more until I saw his performance on Ellen yesterday. Now I am just counting down the days until I can check out his CD insert and dance to his NOT NICKLEBACK SOUNDING CD!
There will be no judgment here. If you don’t like Idol, just move on. I love it and am not ashamed. Mostly. It’s true I cannot get those two hours of my life I spent voting last week back. But I multi task, so while I am incessantly redialing 1-866-IDOLS-O1 I am also doing important things like cutting pictures out of Tiger Beat and making friendship bracelets.
I have not always been an Idol watcher; I was an Idol late bloomer some might say. Better late than never I say! The past four years I have faced my share of Idol ups and downs for sure; cheering along my favorite singers; baulking at ridiculous comments from the judges; and of course fast forwarding anything coming out of Ryan’s mouth. I have always been an avid voter generally waiting until the top 12 before I cast my selective and sometimes lustful vote.
Sadly, my votes, while keeping my favorite Idol on the show for an additional week or two, have never been fruitful enough to produce an American Idol. Which hello, luscious Daughtry yes I will carry your love child, isn’t always a bad thing.
My first Idol year, I loved the spirited fraggle, John Peter Lewis (JPL). My friends and I had special Velcro Idol heads for each contestant that we moved into brackets each week after the show, selecting our bottom three picks for each week and of course our ultimate winner. Those were good times, even after my dear JPL was voted off. So long little man.
The following year Lady Holiday and I watched faithfully as the camera seducer Constantine took the stage. If there is anything I love more than a spirited fraggle, it’s pouty faced grungy rocker men.
Even better, a pouty faced grungy rocker who CAN sing AND has a butt chin! I am gonna tell ya right now, I love me a butt chin. Lady Holiday was so bitter after Constantine’s unjust departure that she subsequently swore off Idol. She's even stuck to it, determined and focused that gal. However, because I totally Benedict Arnolded our pact, I have had the pleasure to see his brooding face in the audience the past few years. I still love you Constantine. Call me.
One might think I couldn’t have more Idol joy than I found in Constantine. But you would be wrong, because the thing I love more than pouty faced grungy rocker is a bald man with tattoos, who can sing! I mean surely, I don’t need to remind you about the ever constant love for all things Vin. No doubt my Daughtry CD gets some serious playtime on the Ipod and we won’t even discuss the condition of the CD insert with it’s multiple and delicious shots of Daughtry, I mean this is a family friendly blog after all. True it was a serious travesty that Chris Daughtry was not the winner that season, but considering he matched four #1 single releases in a row, a record not beat since Mariah Carey in the 90s I am really not going to complain. I just may go play my CD and dance around with the insert again to celebrate the victory. I should also mention here that Chris is a good ol’ North Carolina Boy. Sigh.
Last year Idol visited fraggle rock again and I was totally endeared to Blake Lewis. I knew chances were slim that he would win, but I adored his personality, and the variety he brought to the performances. I still find myself putting his version of When The Stars Go Blue on repeat frequently. So precious I just wanted to put him in my pocket so I could pull him out to sing for me on demand. Dance monkey dance.
This year the stars were aligned, once again fans were screaming it was the BEST SEASON EVER. Indeed I enjoyed this season immensely, even if I was completely annoyed at the hour long results show and found myself fast forwarding more crap and singers and sometimes crappy singers than ever. But alas, I persisted through because of this delight.
It often takes me several weeks to settle on a favorite and decide which singer is going to be blessed to have my stalking and powerful votes. Not this year, I was a David Cook fan from the start. Some people were nay sayers, making horrific statements like “He sounds like Nickleback” which he so does not. Or “He has a huge head!” which he so does not-ish. But man can he sing. And play the guitar. And smile. And grow scruff. Ummm scruff.
Regardless, I am so pleased that the curse has finally been lifted and my Idol voice has been heard. Congrats to David Cook. I didn't know I could love him any more until I saw his performance on Ellen yesterday. Now I am just counting down the days until I can check out his CD insert and dance to his NOT NICKLEBACK SOUNDING CD!
July 18, 2008
Discontent
It's totally cliche. Middle aged single LDS girl bemoans her fate, questions her purpose, resents her status, becomes sullen, withdrawn, and resentful. Have I covered it all? Generally these bouts of frustration pass quickly with a good dose of realities "it could be worse" but I cannot seem to shake this one. I even resent writing about it, I don't owe any explanations of a long writing absence. I can't even really put to paper what my heart and mind think and feel so why attempt? I am really tired. Tired of smiling. Tired of pretending I haven't hurt or let down friends recently (let's not even mention the zillion unanswered emails and I cannot even tell you the last time I actually listened to voicemail). Tired of the discontent. Just tired and that isn't me.This tailspin of frustration, angst, and discontent I feel certain was brought about by the winds of change. I don't do change well. I like to be in control of everything. When things change I lose control and basically if something in my life recently could possibly change it has. Even the good changes have brought about levels of uncertainty, unexplained resentment, and anxiety. I feel like I am speaking of changes here in that annoying way that people speak of "trials" or "temptations" from the pulpit expecting the listener to decode their secret life as they talk around the facts hoping that through grapevine gossip you can figure out what their story is really about. I don't mean to do that so let me break it down.
I have loved and hated my job repeatedly over the course of the past two years. My kids I always love. The bureaucracy I always hate. My kids are leaving me to move on to another teacher prior to kindergarten. I am having great difficulty accepting this change. It's my own fault for crossing boundaries and lines of professional v/s personal that a teacher should probably never cross. But I cannot be in their lives, comfort parents as they cry over milestones that will never be reached, join in celebrations of victories over the seemingly impossible, and provide hope for the ordinary miracles of life and not cross those lines. There are teachers that can. They draw the line. They keep the distance. They are successful teachers, and I do not think I am better then they are. But I cannot do it and for that I pay the price as my heart crumbles into a million pieces when I have to let them go and learn from another. This group of kidos I have had for 3 years, two in the classroom and one year in their homes weekly. Could you ever get over losing this group?
Speaking of losing things, I lost everything I have written, saved, created, presented, photographed, downloaded, etc from the past 6 years. Yes, I fell victim to the laziness of never backing up my files and have suffered the consequences. Even with ample warning (my computer acting up for more than a month) I did not take the time to backup my data and came home to find the computer dead. Not nearly dead. Not almost dead. Not possibly able to save some elements of data dead. NOTHING DEAD. ALL IS GONE FOREVER DEAD. So while I delight in the change that has been adding Clive to my life, I curse myself for losing every professional presentation I have given over the past five years, my masters thesis, my pictures from Stumpy's wedding, the birth of Gabs, etc. If it was important for me to have electronically it's all gone now save a few photos I put onto Snapfish and the songs that blessed Itunes was willing to restore. Yeah, so lots of change there. New computer. New commitment to back things up. New. Change.
The changes keep rolling as my dear friends take jobs in other locations and move away. Maybe what I am learning here is that I have attachment issues, except for rather the typical method of manifestation in not getting attached, I find myself overly attached. It started about a year ago when my friend Gin moved away with the boys. Thankfully she moved within a few hours drive but that lack of weekly contact has been difficult and sometimes the absence of just a quick visit after work or a fun Saturday at the pool is more than I can handle. The moves continued as people around me graduated, found jobs, and moved toward greener pastures including Fran. You cannot just be the sister I have never had, let me be head over heels in love with your children, nearly die of a heart attack in front of me, let me raise your kids for a few weeks/months while you heal, and then get all better and move away. Only you can. And they did. And I am heart broken. It's been over a month and rather than being so happy for them, which I should be, I mostly just angry that their lives are going on without me. Apparently my need to be needed out weighs the rational need for other people do what is best for their lives. Therapy anyone? I cannot even put cute pictures of their families up because, as just hashed out in the paragraph before, they are all gone. Curses.Even more unsettling was my own move which I knew was coming but happened significantly faster than planned. I thought I would move this fall but circumstances opened up allowing me to move only 8 miles v/s 28 miles from work. Given the ongoing increase in gas it only made sense to make the move while opportunities were available. It probably seems insignificant to be emotional about a move that is only 20 miles from friends, but that 20 miles might as well be another state. It means leaving my ward, my Stake (read: Stake Primary!), and the ease of being moments away from sharing time with dear friends. I really love my new digs and will have to post pictures as soon as it's decorated *. However, my home in Chapel Hill had been my home for six years, the longest I have lived anywhere my entire 33 years of life. It wasn't just a matter of packing boxes, I left my home. I left the end of carefree years of college. I left the comfort of knowing the back roads, the neighbors, the feeling of home. Will I gain those same feelings for my new home? It seems possible but also like a daunting obligation that my heart is not in. Yet even with that feeling I do not have any regrets about the move and feel assured it was the right choice.So here I sit restless, resistant to the changes ahead, resentful of the changes of the past six months, and feeling a mix of turmoil and relief. I am hopeful this discontent will pass. That once again I can be the reliable happy friend. I can be the one serving others and sharing funny stories. I need to be that girl again. Maybe acknowledging these emotions out loud will start me on the path to the girl who once again is "thinking it through".*Lis, will you please come make it beautiful like your place!
It's totally cliche. Middle aged single LDS girl bemoans her fate, questions her purpose, resents her status, becomes sullen, withdrawn, and resentful. Have I covered it all? Generally these bouts of frustration pass quickly with a good dose of realities "it could be worse" but I cannot seem to shake this one. I even resent writing about it, I don't owe any explanations of a long writing absence. I can't even really put to paper what my heart and mind think and feel so why attempt? I am really tired. Tired of smiling. Tired of pretending I haven't hurt or let down friends recently (let's not even mention the zillion unanswered emails and I cannot even tell you the last time I actually listened to voicemail). Tired of the discontent. Just tired and that isn't me.This tailspin of frustration, angst, and discontent I feel certain was brought about by the winds of change. I don't do change well. I like to be in control of everything. When things change I lose control and basically if something in my life recently could possibly change it has. Even the good changes have brought about levels of uncertainty, unexplained resentment, and anxiety. I feel like I am speaking of changes here in that annoying way that people speak of "trials" or "temptations" from the pulpit expecting the listener to decode their secret life as they talk around the facts hoping that through grapevine gossip you can figure out what their story is really about. I don't mean to do that so let me break it down.
I have loved and hated my job repeatedly over the course of the past two years. My kids I always love. The bureaucracy I always hate. My kids are leaving me to move on to another teacher prior to kindergarten. I am having great difficulty accepting this change. It's my own fault for crossing boundaries and lines of professional v/s personal that a teacher should probably never cross. But I cannot be in their lives, comfort parents as they cry over milestones that will never be reached, join in celebrations of victories over the seemingly impossible, and provide hope for the ordinary miracles of life and not cross those lines. There are teachers that can. They draw the line. They keep the distance. They are successful teachers, and I do not think I am better then they are. But I cannot do it and for that I pay the price as my heart crumbles into a million pieces when I have to let them go and learn from another. This group of kidos I have had for 3 years, two in the classroom and one year in their homes weekly. Could you ever get over losing this group?
Speaking of losing things, I lost everything I have written, saved, created, presented, photographed, downloaded, etc from the past 6 years. Yes, I fell victim to the laziness of never backing up my files and have suffered the consequences. Even with ample warning (my computer acting up for more than a month) I did not take the time to backup my data and came home to find the computer dead. Not nearly dead. Not almost dead. Not possibly able to save some elements of data dead. NOTHING DEAD. ALL IS GONE FOREVER DEAD. So while I delight in the change that has been adding Clive to my life, I curse myself for losing every professional presentation I have given over the past five years, my masters thesis, my pictures from Stumpy's wedding, the birth of Gabs, etc. If it was important for me to have electronically it's all gone now save a few photos I put onto Snapfish and the songs that blessed Itunes was willing to restore. Yeah, so lots of change there. New computer. New commitment to back things up. New. Change.
The changes keep rolling as my dear friends take jobs in other locations and move away. Maybe what I am learning here is that I have attachment issues, except for rather the typical method of manifestation in not getting attached, I find myself overly attached. It started about a year ago when my friend Gin moved away with the boys. Thankfully she moved within a few hours drive but that lack of weekly contact has been difficult and sometimes the absence of just a quick visit after work or a fun Saturday at the pool is more than I can handle. The moves continued as people around me graduated, found jobs, and moved toward greener pastures including Fran. You cannot just be the sister I have never had, let me be head over heels in love with your children, nearly die of a heart attack in front of me, let me raise your kids for a few weeks/months while you heal, and then get all better and move away. Only you can. And they did. And I am heart broken. It's been over a month and rather than being so happy for them, which I should be, I mostly just angry that their lives are going on without me. Apparently my need to be needed out weighs the rational need for other people do what is best for their lives. Therapy anyone? I cannot even put cute pictures of their families up because, as just hashed out in the paragraph before, they are all gone. Curses.Even more unsettling was my own move which I knew was coming but happened significantly faster than planned. I thought I would move this fall but circumstances opened up allowing me to move only 8 miles v/s 28 miles from work. Given the ongoing increase in gas it only made sense to make the move while opportunities were available. It probably seems insignificant to be emotional about a move that is only 20 miles from friends, but that 20 miles might as well be another state. It means leaving my ward, my Stake (read: Stake Primary!), and the ease of being moments away from sharing time with dear friends. I really love my new digs and will have to post pictures as soon as it's decorated *. However, my home in Chapel Hill had been my home for six years, the longest I have lived anywhere my entire 33 years of life. It wasn't just a matter of packing boxes, I left my home. I left the end of carefree years of college. I left the comfort of knowing the back roads, the neighbors, the feeling of home. Will I gain those same feelings for my new home? It seems possible but also like a daunting obligation that my heart is not in. Yet even with that feeling I do not have any regrets about the move and feel assured it was the right choice.So here I sit restless, resistant to the changes ahead, resentful of the changes of the past six months, and feeling a mix of turmoil and relief. I am hopeful this discontent will pass. That once again I can be the reliable happy friend. I can be the one serving others and sharing funny stories. I need to be that girl again. Maybe acknowledging these emotions out loud will start me on the path to the girl who once again is "thinking it through".*Lis, will you please come make it beautiful like your place!
July 30, 2008
Content: Eating my way through vacation
I knew I missed the sunny days of life in Southern California, but I didn't realize how much I had missed it until sinking my teeth into a delicious animal style In N Out cheeseburger, slurping down a Mango-a-go go Jamba Juice, and scheduling dinner tonight for Rubio's Fish Tacos. I think contentment is settling in and possibly a new waistline, but hey it's vacation!Oh yeah, I am also having a wonderful time with friends, napping (count is currently at 5), and purchased tickets for Wicked on Saturday. This vacation is going exactly as planned minus the detour to UT. Oh well, just means I get to plan another one!
I knew I missed the sunny days of life in Southern California, but I didn't realize how much I had missed it until sinking my teeth into a delicious animal style In N Out cheeseburger, slurping down a Mango-a-go go Jamba Juice, and scheduling dinner tonight for Rubio's Fish Tacos. I think contentment is settling in and possibly a new waistline, but hey it's vacation!Oh yeah, I am also having a wonderful time with friends, napping (count is currently at 5), and purchased tickets for Wicked on Saturday. This vacation is going exactly as planned minus the detour to UT. Oh well, just means I get to plan another one!
Oct. 18, 2008
Fine. I am back.
Several friends have been asking me when I was going to post again. While I cannot say the writing bug has officially returned I have noticed that I am having more of those "you should write that down" experiences lately. One popular doctrine taught at church is that we can either choose to be humble or the Lord will compel us to be so. Apparently he works the same way with writing. I can either choose to write, or be compelled to write. This is also where I would link to a scripture about God having a sense of humor if I knew where to find one.On Monday night I was making dinner for a friend who is moving back to Utah. It wasn't going to be a tender sappy dinner of goodbyes, but one that was most likely going to illicit some rather intense conversation, awkward pauses, and tearful regrets. You know, cause that is the way I roll. Due to the nature of said dinner I had been obsessing over the menu for nearly a week. I finally decided on the America's Test Kitchen skillet beef stroganoff and the Fall Issue of Cook's Illustrated pan roasted broccoli with browned lemon butter. The previous sentence doesn't really have relevance to the story as much as just a chance to say -- these recipes are keepers. If you haven't discovered them for yourself, they are 5 fork recipes in my book.
However, because I was making a fancy dinner I had planned to leave work a bit early so not to rush the cooking and still have time to clean up a bit before my guest arrived. Not clean up as to be HAWT, but as in when you work with infants and toddlers all day it's not every dinner guest that appreciates the faint smell of reflux, wipes, and playdough. Also, while I really didn't want to be HAWT I did secretly hope that my guest would leave with one of those feelings of "Dang, I really screwed that up." even though I would have the continued feeling of "Dang, I totally dodged that bullet!". I however did not make it out of the office as early as I anticipated and I still needed to pick up fresh thyme and a lemon. My mind was racing; timing everything out in my head, when to start each dish, would I still have time to run the vacuum, change clothes, add a dessert or just eat ice cream as I dashed into Trader Joe's. Only instead of dashing in, I crashed in. It all happened so fast I don't know if I missed the curb all together or if I just didn't step up all the way. All I know is that in a matter of seconds my keys, purse, and sunglasses from my left hand were flying in the air and the drink I was holding in my right hand was smashed completely against my chest as I hit the ground full force. Did I mention this was in front of Trader Joe's? Around 4:30 in the afternoon, prime just after work shopping time? Seriously, probably 25 people outside the store. First, kudos to whatever angel sealed my lips because surprisingly not a single four letter word spilled out. There were tons of kids out front of the store so that could have been bad. So there I was flat on the concrete wondering why I couldn't have waited to fall when Ann was in town so I could blame her for pushing me down. Because she totally does. When a kind soul came and offered his help.
That's right, 25 people saw me fly through the air and only one person even acknowledged the fall. An adult man much like unto my beloved Vin Diesel. What kinda crappy luck is that? A tall, thick necked, bald, tattooed man comes and helps me to my feet. Ohhh heaven forbid, I just meet this guy in the aisle of TJ's where he could ask me a question about the "Pirates Booty" and I would charmingly answer and he would respond with some lame pirate joke, and then I would smile and blush slightly, and then he would say he had one more question, and I would say of course you can have my number, and he would say Happily. Ever. After. Oh no, heaven forbid that happen. Instead my dead on real life dream man, lifts my fat rump off the sidewalk and said "Don't worry it happens to all of us" as he helps me gather my scattered belongings. Sigh.Better yet? Trader Joe's was out of fresh thyme and only had limes. On the at least my glass isn't empty side of things, I luckily walked away with only scrapped palms and minimally scrapped knees. The next day though I was so stinking sore.So there you have it. Next time your friends encourage you to update your blog, just do it. Don't wait to be compelled to write. Also, when you are pretending to be nice by having a dinner guest over but secretly hope to send someone away with regrets, it's not really a secret because you will end up humbled.
Several friends have been asking me when I was going to post again. While I cannot say the writing bug has officially returned I have noticed that I am having more of those "you should write that down" experiences lately. One popular doctrine taught at church is that we can either choose to be humble or the Lord will compel us to be so. Apparently he works the same way with writing. I can either choose to write, or be compelled to write. This is also where I would link to a scripture about God having a sense of humor if I knew where to find one.On Monday night I was making dinner for a friend who is moving back to Utah. It wasn't going to be a tender sappy dinner of goodbyes, but one that was most likely going to illicit some rather intense conversation, awkward pauses, and tearful regrets. You know, cause that is the way I roll. Due to the nature of said dinner I had been obsessing over the menu for nearly a week. I finally decided on the America's Test Kitchen skillet beef stroganoff and the Fall Issue of Cook's Illustrated pan roasted broccoli with browned lemon butter. The previous sentence doesn't really have relevance to the story as much as just a chance to say -- these recipes are keepers. If you haven't discovered them for yourself, they are 5 fork recipes in my book.
However, because I was making a fancy dinner I had planned to leave work a bit early so not to rush the cooking and still have time to clean up a bit before my guest arrived. Not clean up as to be HAWT, but as in when you work with infants and toddlers all day it's not every dinner guest that appreciates the faint smell of reflux, wipes, and playdough. Also, while I really didn't want to be HAWT I did secretly hope that my guest would leave with one of those feelings of "Dang, I really screwed that up." even though I would have the continued feeling of "Dang, I totally dodged that bullet!". I however did not make it out of the office as early as I anticipated and I still needed to pick up fresh thyme and a lemon. My mind was racing; timing everything out in my head, when to start each dish, would I still have time to run the vacuum, change clothes, add a dessert or just eat ice cream as I dashed into Trader Joe's. Only instead of dashing in, I crashed in. It all happened so fast I don't know if I missed the curb all together or if I just didn't step up all the way. All I know is that in a matter of seconds my keys, purse, and sunglasses from my left hand were flying in the air and the drink I was holding in my right hand was smashed completely against my chest as I hit the ground full force. Did I mention this was in front of Trader Joe's? Around 4:30 in the afternoon, prime just after work shopping time? Seriously, probably 25 people outside the store. First, kudos to whatever angel sealed my lips because surprisingly not a single four letter word spilled out. There were tons of kids out front of the store so that could have been bad. So there I was flat on the concrete wondering why I couldn't have waited to fall when Ann was in town so I could blame her for pushing me down. Because she totally does. When a kind soul came and offered his help.
That's right, 25 people saw me fly through the air and only one person even acknowledged the fall. An adult man much like unto my beloved Vin Diesel. What kinda crappy luck is that? A tall, thick necked, bald, tattooed man comes and helps me to my feet. Ohhh heaven forbid, I just meet this guy in the aisle of TJ's where he could ask me a question about the "Pirates Booty" and I would charmingly answer and he would respond with some lame pirate joke, and then I would smile and blush slightly, and then he would say he had one more question, and I would say of course you can have my number, and he would say Happily. Ever. After. Oh no, heaven forbid that happen. Instead my dead on real life dream man, lifts my fat rump off the sidewalk and said "Don't worry it happens to all of us" as he helps me gather my scattered belongings. Sigh.Better yet? Trader Joe's was out of fresh thyme and only had limes. On the at least my glass isn't empty side of things, I luckily walked away with only scrapped palms and minimally scrapped knees. The next day though I was so stinking sore.So there you have it. Next time your friends encourage you to update your blog, just do it. Don't wait to be compelled to write. Also, when you are pretending to be nice by having a dinner guest over but secretly hope to send someone away with regrets, it's not really a secret because you will end up humbled.
Oct. 19, 2008
Meet Jerry-mi-NAH
Two days in a row baby. Bring it on. I know you all remember the great stories I used to share from my dear pal Jaquan. It was a sad day last June when he graduated heading off into the big scary world of kindergarten. I knew my Jaquan story days were over. Little did I know that the saga would continue as now Jaquan's uncle is actively attending as one of our typically sighted peer models. Let me introduce you to Jeremiah. Jeremiah is 3. My Catey-bird causes him Jerry-mi-NAH. Landon continually rubs his head, and Olivia has found a partner in crime. But I digress.We were thrilled this summer when Jaquan's grandma (one year older than me) called to see if she could enroll Jeremiah. He came bounding into school the first day and has been delightful from the word go. By delightful I mean providing story after story nearly every day, often several a day. It takes approximately half a second to fall in love with him. He has beautiful bright eyes, a mischievous grin complete with two dimples, and dresses with 3 yr old ghetto flair. When you pass Jeremiah in the hall he winks at you. Or sometimes he puts out his fist to knuckle up. I also crack up when he does the head flick "sup". Have I mentioned he is 3? He also never calls me Miss Dana. When he sees me for winking, knuckles, etc I am always "Hey Girl". Not in the rude way, but in the "I haven't seen you in ages.....HEYYY GGGGIIIRRRRLLL".
All of my old kids are now in the class with Jeremiah. The first week of school I was observing and helping out with the transition and the kids were walking from the bathroom to the classroom. Jeremiah made a sudden stop and Britny bumped into him with her cane. With significant attitude Jeremiah turned around and said "Girl, you better start looking where you are going!" Ummm, Brinty is totally blind. Apparently, Jeremiah was still grasping the concept of being a student at the school for the blind.Two weeks ago his teacher did a unit on careers. She gave the kids magazines and had them looking for pictures of what they want to be when they grow up. (A little side note here, can anyone see why I have such an issue with this teacher, because tell me how the kids who CANNOT SEE are benefiting from this, none of them have enough sight to distinguish photographs....ok, enough venting). Jeremiah looked through the magazine and after a few minutes closed it and put his head down on the table. When asked what the problem was he said "There aren't any pimps in this magazine!"Last week I was standing in the hall talking to Cate's mom, as she waited for class to let out. She was wearing a nice pair of shorts and a top, very modest and conservative. She also was wearing a pair of 3 inch wedge heels. Jeremiah comes walking out of the classroom and said "Girl, look at you! You goin' to da club!" as he bent down and admired her shoes. This mom turned beet red. Later that week she told me she immediately went home and changed her shoes.Hopefully this provided you with some laughs. I am sure to have additional Jerry-mi-NAH stories as the year progresses. Gotta love a kid from da 'hood!
Two days in a row baby. Bring it on. I know you all remember the great stories I used to share from my dear pal Jaquan. It was a sad day last June when he graduated heading off into the big scary world of kindergarten. I knew my Jaquan story days were over. Little did I know that the saga would continue as now Jaquan's uncle is actively attending as one of our typically sighted peer models. Let me introduce you to Jeremiah. Jeremiah is 3. My Catey-bird causes him Jerry-mi-NAH. Landon continually rubs his head, and Olivia has found a partner in crime. But I digress.We were thrilled this summer when Jaquan's grandma (one year older than me) called to see if she could enroll Jeremiah. He came bounding into school the first day and has been delightful from the word go. By delightful I mean providing story after story nearly every day, often several a day. It takes approximately half a second to fall in love with him. He has beautiful bright eyes, a mischievous grin complete with two dimples, and dresses with 3 yr old ghetto flair. When you pass Jeremiah in the hall he winks at you. Or sometimes he puts out his fist to knuckle up. I also crack up when he does the head flick "sup". Have I mentioned he is 3? He also never calls me Miss Dana. When he sees me for winking, knuckles, etc I am always "Hey Girl". Not in the rude way, but in the "I haven't seen you in ages.....HEYYY GGGGIIIRRRRLLL".
All of my old kids are now in the class with Jeremiah. The first week of school I was observing and helping out with the transition and the kids were walking from the bathroom to the classroom. Jeremiah made a sudden stop and Britny bumped into him with her cane. With significant attitude Jeremiah turned around and said "Girl, you better start looking where you are going!" Ummm, Brinty is totally blind. Apparently, Jeremiah was still grasping the concept of being a student at the school for the blind.Two weeks ago his teacher did a unit on careers. She gave the kids magazines and had them looking for pictures of what they want to be when they grow up. (A little side note here, can anyone see why I have such an issue with this teacher, because tell me how the kids who CANNOT SEE are benefiting from this, none of them have enough sight to distinguish photographs....ok, enough venting). Jeremiah looked through the magazine and after a few minutes closed it and put his head down on the table. When asked what the problem was he said "There aren't any pimps in this magazine!"Last week I was standing in the hall talking to Cate's mom, as she waited for class to let out. She was wearing a nice pair of shorts and a top, very modest and conservative. She also was wearing a pair of 3 inch wedge heels. Jeremiah comes walking out of the classroom and said "Girl, look at you! You goin' to da club!" as he bent down and admired her shoes. This mom turned beet red. Later that week she told me she immediately went home and changed her shoes.Hopefully this provided you with some laughs. I am sure to have additional Jerry-mi-NAH stories as the year progresses. Gotta love a kid from da 'hood!
Oct.28, 2008
This is me, shaking my head in disbelief
Yesterday, I was able to spend the fine tax payers of NC money at The ‘Get. This was a big trip because NC is about to put a freeze on state spending so I had to stock up for the kidos. All items in my cart screamed, “shopping for kids”. The cashier, a gentleman in his early twenties, was busy scanning multiple packages of diaper wipes, all manner of kid snacks, hand soap, juice boxes, and at the end I had a few packs of these 2 oz neon cups.
The cashier made a gasping sound and exclaimed, “These cups are so cute!” Given, I have the world’s worst poker face, I am sure he saw the “What the H, they're plastic cups” expression smeared across my brow. He followed up with “You use these for shots right?”I just stood there for a second, before I picked up my jaw from the conveyor belt. Are you kidding me? Yeah, I just added a quick boozer restock to my list of puffs, sippy cups, and hand sanitizer. People do buy their shot glasses and other drinking paraphernalia in the midst of their regular groceries, but my items so clearly screamed WHOLESOME INNOCENCE! Why would I suddenly also be purchasing plastic shot glasses? Given I was about to hand over my state credit card to pay for the goods, I made sure to correct him and said the only shots poured in those cups will be milk. For Preschoolers. Tiny plastic shots of milk.I was snickering on the inside, but mostly thought this guy should probably be working at The ‘Mart instead of The ‘Get. Yeah, that is me passing judgment.That was classic enough but then at the end I gave him the miniature bibliography required for our tax exempt purchase including the billing address for the card. All NC state mail goes through our Mail Service Center, and when I stated that he snickered audibly and then proceeded to write “Male Service Center”. BUSTED! Ya know us “teachers” (wink wink nudge nudge) can’t pass up the graham crackers with our shots.
Yesterday, I was able to spend the fine tax payers of NC money at The ‘Get. This was a big trip because NC is about to put a freeze on state spending so I had to stock up for the kidos. All items in my cart screamed, “shopping for kids”. The cashier, a gentleman in his early twenties, was busy scanning multiple packages of diaper wipes, all manner of kid snacks, hand soap, juice boxes, and at the end I had a few packs of these 2 oz neon cups.
The cashier made a gasping sound and exclaimed, “These cups are so cute!” Given, I have the world’s worst poker face, I am sure he saw the “What the H, they're plastic cups” expression smeared across my brow. He followed up with “You use these for shots right?”I just stood there for a second, before I picked up my jaw from the conveyor belt. Are you kidding me? Yeah, I just added a quick boozer restock to my list of puffs, sippy cups, and hand sanitizer. People do buy their shot glasses and other drinking paraphernalia in the midst of their regular groceries, but my items so clearly screamed WHOLESOME INNOCENCE! Why would I suddenly also be purchasing plastic shot glasses? Given I was about to hand over my state credit card to pay for the goods, I made sure to correct him and said the only shots poured in those cups will be milk. For Preschoolers. Tiny plastic shots of milk.I was snickering on the inside, but mostly thought this guy should probably be working at The ‘Mart instead of The ‘Get. Yeah, that is me passing judgment.That was classic enough but then at the end I gave him the miniature bibliography required for our tax exempt purchase including the billing address for the card. All NC state mail goes through our Mail Service Center, and when I stated that he snickered audibly and then proceeded to write “Male Service Center”. BUSTED! Ya know us “teachers” (wink wink nudge nudge) can’t pass up the graham crackers with our shots.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)